Esteban (Dark Paradise)

CHAPTER 6

Esteban shut the door and went over to the tiled shower, turning the knobs until the right temperature water came spraying out. He glanced at me over his shoulder. I was standing by the sink, my arms folded across my chest, my mind both blank and racing, like an empty videotape was just looping and looping. I was freezing now, my skin a mix of gooseflesh and paint splatters. My hands were the color of the sun-mirrored sea.

How is there something still so wrong with me?

He approached me like I was a skittish filly, all measured moves and careful glances. He didn't say anything as he slowly moved for my tank top. He grabbed the hem and with the slightest lift of his chin, motioned for me to raise my arms in the air.

With my breath and my heart in my mouth, I did so. He carefully pulled the tank top up until it was over my head. He flung it behind him and it landed on the floor. His hands, wonderfully warm hands, went behind my back to the clasp of my bra. With a swift, easy motion, it came undone and he pulled it away from my body.

He didn't let himself stare at my bare breasts. Instead his eyes remained focused on mine, forever trying to gauge my thoughts, to read me.

I stayed absolutely still as he bent down and started to pull my shorts and underwear off. They slid down my legs with ease and his hands went for the inside of my thighs, lifting my legs to get my clothing out from under them.

Those were tossed across the room, too. But his face and hands slid up my thighs in tandem, the soft grip of his fingers, the hot breath from his mouth. I felt myself blossoming for him, wanting his tongue and his lips, wanting everything. He kept rising, though, leaving me clenching with disappointment.

He gestured to the shower, wanting me to go in.

But I wasn't going in alone. I reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head.

His smile was pure sex. He quickly took off his pants and then before me stood a naked Esteban, a wonderfully sculpted man, like golden honey and bronze.

I wanted to run my fingers up and down his washboard abs, I wanted my mouth to kiss the ridges of his hips, I wanted his erect cock to slide deep inside me.

But Esteban was a man on a mission. He put his hands on my shoulders and slowly turned me around and led me over to the shower that was now steaming up the bathroom.

The shower was redundant at this point—I was already hot. But the water felt amazing on my too-ripe, too-sensitive skin, washing the paint away so we were standing in a swirling pool of sunset colors.

Having this naked man pressed up against me, this beautiful naked man who had shown me so much in the last few days, I needed to do something for him. I dropped to my knees and took his dick in my mouth. It tasted good, felt good to my tongue and lips, the weight heavy in my hands. I wanted to give him some of the pleasure he had given me, even if the pleasure would never really last.

The sad truth was I hadn't given a blow job in a long time. It hadn't been wanted in my household, and I wasn't sure if I was any good at it anymore. But from the way Esteban gripped my hair, I knew he did want it. It was only when I felt his breath quicken, his balls tighten, that he pulled away and groaned for me to stop.

I did so reluctantly, relishing the feel of him. He brought me up to my feet and held me against his heaving chest before he kissed me breathlessly. We kissed through the water, kissed through colors.

When we were both worked up, Esteban turned the shower off, grabbed a few towels from the rack, and led me out into the bedroom. He put the towels on the bed, then lay me back on it, my legs around his neck.